


This is Home

by theauthorish



Series: Red Stilettos and Handsome Devils [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aftercare, Fluff without Plot, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 06:52:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17483249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theauthorish/pseuds/theauthorish
Summary: Just some ennoaka aftercare and fluff!!!





	This is Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Crows_Imagine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crows_Imagine/gifts).



> So Enno gave me this prompt and I had so much fun with it! Hope you all like it!

“Keiji, come on, the bath is ready.”

 

Keiji blinks awake slowly. He must have drifted off-- his chest and stomach are clean now, no doubt thanks to Ennoshita and the help of a warm cloth. His lower half is sore, his mind still hazy from bliss, and he probably has more than a few marks that he’ll need to hide under high-collared tops for the next week or so…

 

He couldn't be luckier.

 

“Keiji,” Ennoshita says again, chuckling a little. “The water is going to get cold. Come on.”

 

He tugs gently on Keiji’s wrist, urging him up, and Keiji goes, even reluctant as he is to leave the warmth of the blankets and the smell of Ennoshita all around him-- in the sheets, in the pillows, in the sweat and slick still sticking to his skin in a thin sheen. Still, nothing beats the real thing, smiling at him fondly, sweetly, lovingly, and Keiji stumbles to his feet to follow him into the bathroom.

 

The tub is filled, and the room smells like lavender from the bubble bath Ennoshita’s added. The mirrors are foggy from the steam, and Keiji can't help but dash a finger across the surface just to watch a line form, like he's a child writing messages on it-- he considers actually writing something for his partner to read, but said partner ushers him forward again, and he decides it’ll have to wait. 

 

Ennoshita helps him into the tub, holding him by the elbow lest he slip and fall as he lowers himself in, and then joins him, sitting himself carefully behind Keiji, legs to either side of him, folded at the knees. It can't be comfortable, Keiji thinks, but Ennoshita doesn't complain, humming softly as he cups water in his hands and tips it over Keiji’s hair. “You know, Keiji, you're surprisingly sleepy considering I did most of the work,” he teases.

 

Keiji snorts gently, a soft smile curling at his lips as Ennoshita begins to lather up shampoo in his hands, working it gently into Keiji’s curls. “Only for the second round, Chikara,” he counters, leaning back into his boyfriend's touch.

 

“Which was the most recent round, which means if anyone ought to be tired, it should be me,” Ennoshita points out, with no heat. “You got a rest period.”

 

At that, Keiji really does laugh, a barely audible chuckle that bubbles up from his chest. He hears Ennoshita join in, a quiet giggle as his fingers scrape lightly against Keiji’s scalp. “It’s not really rest, you know,” he says, doing his best not to picture exactly why not-- he absolutely does  _ not  _ have the energy for another go.

 

Ennoshita just laughs again. “Okay, your hair is done. I’m gonna rinse it.” Keiji almost wants to stop him, but he bites his tongue instead. As good as Ennoshita’s massages are, they do need to get clean, and Ennoshita’s probably just as tired as Keiji.

 

“If you don't mind the possibility of some of the water sloshing over as I rearrange myself, I can do your hair after,” he offers, sighing slightly at the feel of warm water cascading over his head, closing his eyes and tipping his head back a bit so none of the suds run into his face.

 

Ennoshita pours a little more water over him, cards his fingers through Keiji’s hair to check. “Sure.” He does it again, and this time seems satisfied, if the small sound he makes is any indication. Keiji doesn't have to turn around to know Ennoshita is likely nodding to himself as well, as if in approval of his own work.

 

Keiji’s always found that habit (a mostly unconscious one at this point, he thinks) adorable, and he smiles to himself as he maneuvers as best he can in the limited space; both he and Ennoshita laugh as the water shifts and rolls-- overflows to spill down the side. “I don't know why I didn't face you in the first place,” he mumbles. Of course, he winds up slipping partway through sitting down again, sending even more water splashing out onto the tile floor.

 

Ennoshita tries to frown-- and lasts about three seconds before he’s chuckling again, shaking his head in disappointment. “At this rate,” he says, handing the bottle of shampoo to Keiji so he can squeeze some out onto his fingers. “There will be more water out there than in here.”

 

“That would be troublesome,” notes Keiji, doing a better job at maintaining a straight face-- of course, he has a bit more practice than Ennoshita when it comes to these things, considering his captain and best friend had been Bokuto Koutarou, who at any sign of amusement with his antics, became impossible to stop.

 

“Yes it would be,” Ennoshita says, scooting closer when Keiji takes his wrists and tugs a bit. “And it would be your fault.”

 

Keiji only hums. “I suppose it would be,” he mumbles, rubbing the shampoo over his palms and fingers so he can scrub Ennoshita’s hair. He’s careful not to pull too hard, not to scratch with too much force against his scalp.

 

“Suppose?”

 

“Fine. I  _ know  _ it would be, Chikara. Happy?”

 

“Mmhm.”

 

They pass the rest of the bath in silence. Keiji finishes with Ennoshita’s hair, and then they reconfigure their positions again (this time, nothing splashes out, but that's to be expected considering whatever would have gone out of the tub had already done so), so Keiji can lean back against Ennoshita, the two of them soaking in the slowly cooling water and each other's company.

 

At some point, Ennoshita starts humming-- Keiji recognizes it as a song Yahaba had helped compose for Ennoshita’s newest film, some instrumental score for the introductory scene. Ennoshita had loved it, played it on repeat for at least a week; Keiji imagines he has it memorized by now. Keiji certainly does, and knowing his boyfriend, he probably listened to it even more on his way to and from class, and anywhere else he got a chance with his earphones on.

 

They stay that way until the water becomes uncomfortable-- the foam whittled down to nothing, the temperature just a little cooler than is pleasant… their fingers and toes, too, are pruney from how long they’ve been there. But finally, Ennoshita taps his hand gently against Keiji’s hips in a signal, and Keiji stands, not bothering with a towel as he gets out of the tub-- the floor is soaked anyway, after all, what's a little more?

 

Ennoshita cracks a grin and stands, taking the hand Keiji offers him. They pop the drain of the tub and head into the shower, where they scrub themselves down with soap, taking turns to wash each other's backs. Keiji can't help but kiss Ennoshita’s, fleeting things like butterfly whispers against the line of his partner’s spine, steady candle flames he leaves as an ode to how much he cherishes their time together, that they're together at all. There's desire, in them-- of course there is, why wouldn't there be-- but it's subtle, nothing more than an undercurrent really. The main point is love, praise. Gratitude.

 

Ennoshita does the same, almost, except instead of his lips, he uses his fingers, light and delicate, tracing every line of Keiji’s back. The muscles, the bones, the scars, the marks. His hands explore like it's the first time they’ve touched him all over again, and Keiji can't help but shudder. It feels so intimate, so precious. A secret for him to keep.

 

And gods, will he keep it. He’ll engrave the very sensation on his heart, on the very grain of his bones, so that one day, long after he’s been buried and dug up again, an archaeologist might look at him, might brush against his skeleton, and feel the echoes of what Keiji felt, in the hands of the one he loves.

 

Keiji twists his head to meet Ennoshita’s gaze, and they share a quiet smile.

 

/////

 

They dry off, and Ennoshita makes Keiji close his eyes as he retrieves their clothes.

 

This sounds somewhat suspicious, and unnecessary to boot, but Keiji agrees, albeit reluctantly. He soon feels something fuzzy pressed into his hands-- he doesn't have any pajamas in a fabric like this, so what--

 

“You can look now, Keiji,” Ennoshita says, so he does.

 

Keiji’s eyebrows pretty much vanish into his hairline as he unfolds the bundle he’s been handed. “A onesie, Chikara?” he has to admit… it's pretty cute. And soft. He imagines it would be quite nice to wear, as long as he didn't feel the urge to use the restroom too often-- in which case, it would be a hassle, really, though a minor one. “It’s adorable,” he adds, before Ennoshita can start fretting that Keiji might not like it after all. He loves it, he does; it just wasn't what he was expecting. 

 

It's an owl, a snowy white with streaks of gray ‘feathers’ here and there. The hood is overlarge enough to hang halfway down his face-- apparently on purpose, too, judging by the eyeholes cut out on either side of the ‘beak’. He wonders, fleetingly, if it was a coincidence that Ennoshita had gotten him his old high school mascot.

 

From the sleeves, two long swaths of fabric billow out, connecting to the side of the costume in imitation of wings. Keiji’s briefly filled with the urge to stand in front of a fan just to watch them inflate like ship sails, and has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the image-- nope, not thinking about it.

 

Maybe if the fan is powerful enough, and himself a little lighter, he could get blown away--

 

_ Nope _ . That’s dumb. He is not gonna laugh.

 

His lips twitch, and he sees Ennoshita raise a brow, a familiar mix of curious, exasperated, and fond. He doesn't ask what weird thing Keiji’s laughing at  _ this  _ time, which Keiji is grateful for.

 

“It is, isn't it? I thought so too.” Ennoshita shows off his own, black as if to purposely contrast with Keiji’s. He shakes it out and turns it in his hands so Keiji can see it better, and he realizes it's a crow. Or  _ some _ sort of black bird, at any rate, which is close enough. “Anyway,” he goes on, pulling on his briefs. “We should put them on. I washed them and everything, so they're clean, and we'll get sick just standing around like this.”

 

That's true, so Keiji tugs on his own underwear. The zipper of his onesie gets a little caught halfway down, but thankfully it only takes a few seconds to get it free. Soon enough, they're both suited up as their respective high school mascots-- it's cute, as childish as it is, and Keiji has to admit the onesies are very comfortable, as soft and warm on the inside as they were outside; that probably means they can't be used much in the summer, but that's okay.

 

Keiji smiles to himself as he flaps his arms up and down experimentally, watching the wings stretch and fold. Then, still keeping them outstretched at hos sides, he moves them forward and back, trying to get the wings to beat the way a real owl’s would. It doesn't quite work, and both he and Ennoshita can't help but giggle at the ridiculousness of it all

 

“I love it,” he tells his partner.

 

Ennoshita grins a little wider. “Good.”

 

/////

 

They soon wind up on the couch, Keiji splayed across the length of it-- head on one armrest, legs dangling off the other side and kicking the air at random like a child. Ennoshita is sprawled above him, legs tangled with Keiji’s, cheek pressed right above Keiji’s heart. Ennoshita’s fingers tap gently against Keiji’s waist, matching the rhythm of his pulse.

 

And this? This is good.

 

The movie on screen? Not so much.

 

“Why do you always choose to watch bad movies?” Keiji questions, raising an eyebrow at his boyfriend as he rubs a hand absently up and down Ennoshita’s back.

 

Ennoshita pouts. “Not always.”

 

“Almost always,” Keiji concedes, chuckling as Ennoshita huffs but doesn't argue. He knows it's true, just as much as Keiji does.

 

“They're amusing to make fun of,” Ennoshita says, instead of making a proper retort. “And anyway, since they're bad we don't have to pay attention.”

 

“What's the point of a movie if you aren't going to watch it?”

 

This time, Keiji gets a shrug. “Background noise.”

 

Keiji snorts, but lets it be. He can't say he’s opposed to this, after all. Cuddling together, breaths and hearts completely, utterly in sync; the physical and emotional warmth of it all as they crack jokes about the effects or the plot or the characters. He loves the way Ennoshita speaks just above a whisper, like he's somewhat trying to maintain the romance of it all even as he's saying something as hilarious as, “Look at him, he's gonna go that far for a woman he’s never even met, and leave his best friend of ten or so years? Jeez, this is why all the movies need to be gay. A gay man would've fallen for the best friend, not the weird killer lady.”

 

Keiji laughs for real this time, shaking his head and bringing a hand to his mouth as if he can capture his snickers and shove them back down.

 

Ennoshita blinks up at him, eyes twinkling. “I knew you'd laugh at that,” he says, almost smug. “You have such a weird sense of humor.”

 

With a completely deadpan expression, Keiji shoots back, “I also have weird taste in men, apparently.”

 

“Hey!” Ennoshita protests, but there's clear amusement in his voice, sweet and lilting. Keiji grins and presses a kiss to the crown of his head.

 

“I love you,” he murmurs.

 

Ennoshita sighs, happy and content, nuzzling into Keiji’s chest like some sort of cat. “I know.” 

 

For that comment, Keiji slaps him lightly upside the head, rolling his eyes when Ennoshita yelps. He knows it didn't really hurt. It was barely a tap. 

 

“Fine, fine,” Ennoshita says, scooting up and kissing the corner of Keiji’s mouth. “I love you too. Even if you're mean.”

 

“ _ I'm _ mean? I guess I should just head to bed on my own then--” 

 

Ennoshita lets out a squeak as Keiji attempts to stand, clutching helplessly at Keiji so he doesn't fall. “See!  _ Mean _ .” he complains, as Keiji settles back on the couch with a laugh.

 

“Mmhm. Sure.”

 

“Why am I dating you again.”

 

“Hm. Maybe because you love me. That's what you said, isn't it?”

 

Ennoshita flushes a very pretty shade of red as Keiji laces their fingers together, kissing his fingers one by one. “No fair,” he mumbles, hiding his face in Keiji’s chest again. 

 

Keiji chuckles, low and almost inaudible-- Ennoshita probably feels it more than he does hear it. He doesn't say anything more, settling back into stroking his hands down Ennoshita’s back and arms, just to feel him there. Present and content and so, so real, like a dream drawn to life by some benevolent god for Keiji to love, to love Keiji in return.

 

How he ever got so lucky, he doesn't know. 

 

Maybe he’d been a hero in a past life. It seems the only plausible explanation.

 

Together like this, time passes languidly, honey gold and relaxed, so slow Keiji could almost reach out and touch it, pluck moments from it like fruit from the boughs of a tree. The credits to the long-forgotten movie roll on the television screen, and even when they finish and the playback stops, neither Ennoshita nor Keiji bother to start a new one.

 

Ennoshita reaches out a few beats later for the remote, and he switches it off. He returns it to the table.

 

Still, they remain where they are. Neither of them have classes or work tomorrow, any and all obligations and chores have been fulfilled already, or can wait until later on. They so rarely get time together like this-- without discussing it, both of them know they want to stay in this bubble as long as possible.

 

“You know, maybe I'll actually make a spinoff of that movie,” Ennoshita muses, and Keiji blinks in surprise before cracking a grin. 

 

“Seriously.”

 

Ennoshita rests his arms against Keiji’s chest and levers himself up a little to hold eye contact, as if he were deadly serious. The gleam in his eyes gives him away. “Yeah. I’ll redo that horrific ending. Make it the gay movie we deserve,” he goes on.

 

Keiji sputters, shaking his head. “You are incorrigible.” He pauses. “That's basically fanfiction, isn't it?”

 

That earns him a shrug. “Close enough. And while we're at it, I should completely redo those characters. They're so flat-- they're not relatable at all!”

 

Keiji’s trying very, very hard not to cackle, because that would ruin the fun. They're supposed to pretend to be legitimately considering this. “Oh?”

 

Ennoshita nods. “Yeah. Maybe I'll base them off us. You can be the protagonist, and I'll be the best friend you eventually realize you're gay for, and who would be a much better match than that random chick.”

 

And… yeah, Keiji fails to hold in his laughter, giggling uncontrollably. “Why…” he gasps out, “Why am  _ I  _ the hero? Why not you?”

 

“Didn't you mention you used to call your old team--”

 

Keiji’s palm flies up, slaps itself over Ennoshita’s mouth. “We agreed not to talk about that,” he hisses, feigning disgruntlement. “I was in  _ high school _ .”

 

Ennoshita latches onto his wrist and tugs Keiji’s hand away to free himself to speak “So was I,” he retorts. “And I wasn't nearly that dramatic.”

 

“And you said  _ I  _ was mean,” Keiji grumbles, and Ennoshita laughs, pressing a kiss to his mouth in apology.

 

Keiji pulls him closer, deepens the kiss. Their lips move against each other in a familiar rhythm, heated as embers in a fire, steady as the glow of a well-tended hearth. This is home, Keiji thinks. Ennoshita, in all his wondrous entirety, loving him, teasing him, being with him. And they'll have it all the rest of their lives.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tunblr and twitter @theauthorish


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